


Assistant Manager, Slash...

by duckbunny



Category: OTP: One True Pairing (Web Series)
Genre: Caning, Consensual Kink, F/M, Masochism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 07:06:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5958226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckbunny/pseuds/duckbunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Be here bright and early tomorrow morning and I'll see what I can do. Or don't, and I'll open up without you. No skin off my nose.”</p><p>Dennis has an itch. Tina helps scratch it. Everybody wins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assistant Manager, Slash...

Dennis doesn't usually fidget.

Tina watches people; it comes with the territory. She's used to keeping track of how people's body language changes. A belligerent drunk is different from a fighty drunk. Learn to spot the difference, and you can keep the mouthy ones cowed without anything troublesome starting up. So of course she's noticed how Dennis moves. He moves like he's on display. He exists in a state of showing off, and probably at least half the time he's not actually doing it on purpose. He just does it. Frames himself in any space going and doesn't waste movements.

Which is what makes it so interesting that for the last several days, he's been increasingly inclined to do exactly that. He bounces on the balls of his feet, when he's crouched down to restock the fridge. He raises up on his tip-toes for no good reason to reach the top shelves and okay, Tina has to stretch to get to those but Tina is a shortarse. Dennis can reach. He leans back against the cabinets, as he usually would, but his fingers compulsively grip and release the edge, over and over.

She doesn't ask questions about it until he spends all morning playing with something in his pocket. And it _is_ in his pocket. She'd have had much worse things to say if it had been his dick, but Tina watches people; it's in his pocket. And that's weird, because she'd been pretty sure he just needed to get laid, so what has he got in his pocket?

She's not going to ask, of course, because Dennis will make a whole stupid game out of refusing to tell her and then she won't get to know. She considers just going for whatever it is, but that might be going a little far to maintain a professional working relationship. So she waits until there's no customers in the bar, which is pretty normal for two pm on a Tuesday, and Dennis is staring into the distance and fiddling with whatever it is again, and then she grabs his wrist and yanks.

Hand and object come out of his pocket, and Tina's taken it before Dennis has stopped staring at her in shock. It's a little curved silver thing, and for a moment she thinks it's some kind of charm, until she turns it sideways and sees the broad loop of metal it's built around.

A- _ha_. Isn't _that_ interesting? Dennis is carrying around a claw-ring. And playing with it every time his attention wanders.

Tina slips the ring onto her forefinger, where it doesn't fit at all. It's sized for much bigger hands. It does sit quite nicely on her thumb, so she settles for that, the point curving up over her thumbnail. “Pretty. Valentine's gift?”

Dennis is giving her his usual look of exasperation, which gives away almost nothing of what he's actually feeling. “Tina,” he sighs, and she notices how his hands have gone still and his body angled further towards her.

“Or maybe you've got a date. Who's it for? You or them?” Tina pokes him under the chin with the tip of the claw and Dennis _melts_.

He hides it well. He's always on display, he doesn't move without intending to. There's no dramatic collapse. Only his head tilting back an inch or so, his eyes widening, his chest expanding in one deep breath and stilling as he holds it.

On balance, this is going to be a lot more fun if she leaves him hanging.

Tina pulls her hand away. Dennis starts breathing again, perfectly quiet but just a little shaky, and says in carefully measured tones, “Can I have my claw back, please?”

She puts it back in his hand, careful not to touch his skin, and doesn't miss how he follows her movement as she pulls away.

 

Tina doesn't raise the issue again, because she wants to see where it goes and the fastest possible way to make Dennis go into asshole mode is to make him think he's got power. She just watches him, and he spends the next three days fidgeting worse and worse. He doesn't have the claw-ring the first morning, but halfway through his shift it's reappeared again and he can't leave it alone. Comfort object, maybe. Tina doesn't say a word about it.

Friday night, they're both there for closing and it's been a long night. Tina is just trying to get the place cleared up when she comes out from the stock-room to find Dennis leaning against the bar, both hands braced against the edge and his head hanging down. He's got his eyes screwed tightly closed, and the claw-ring is sitting upright on the polished wood.

“Huh,” Tina says, doing her level best to sound unimpressed. “That the best you can do?”

Dennis turns his head and grits out, “Please?” He opens his eyes and looks sideways at her, not quite meeting her gaze. “I know you know what this is.”

“Well, yes. Don't know exactly what you're looking for though. You wanna tell me what it is you're asking?” She nods towards the claw. “That gonna be enough for you?”

Dennis shrugs. “Maybe not. No offence, but we're not really close enough for spanking.”

“Well, unless you happen to have a cane stashed away somewhere...”

That definitely hits a button; Dennis shudders, his shoulders curling forward a little, his face going slack.

“Yeah. Sorry honey, but that little thing's just going to be a tease if you like it that hard. Be here bright and early tomorrow morning and I'll see what I can do. Or don't, and I'll open up without you. No skin off my nose.” Tina turns away to get on with clearing the fuck up and going home, and she definitely hears Dennis swearing softly behind her.

 

He's there right on time the next morning. They don't actually both need to be there, which is the point. They'll have time to scratch his itch before they get to work. Assuming he doesn't need anything too extended, which she should probably have asked, but he's so damn skittish he'll back off if she tries to make him talk.

The minute they're inside Dennis lobs the claw-ring at her and spreads his hands wide, the picture of dramatic surrender. “Please?”

Tina smirks a little. “Alright, honey. How d'you want this? Pants on or off?”

He rubs his face, thinking about it. “Bare thighs, leave the underwear on,” he says at last. “Please don't mention this in public? Ever?”

“What, that I beat my assistant manager with a cane? Yeah, you're safe. You know the stoplight system?”

“Red for stop, green for go,” Dennis says wryly, and steps up to the bar. He undoes his pants and works them down over his hips, exposing a pretty nice ass and excellent thighs. It's not dignified, his pants pushed down towards his knees, but maybe that's doing something for him, because he may be blushing but he made that call. Tina gets out the cane – it's a short little thing, but pretty vicious, it's not really possible to make a cane that isn't vicious – and sets it on the wood next to his hands.

Dennis stares at it for a long, long moment.

When he finally looks up at her, his eyes are wide and unfocused. “Yeah. Green.”

Tina slides her hand around his neck, setting the tip of the claw-ring into the soft underside of his jaw. His eyes drift shut, his head tilting back under the sharp pressure. “And this thing?”

“It was easier than asking,” he admits dreamily, and damn if he doesn't go fast when he goes. He's already way up in the clouds and she hasn't started yet.

“Alright then. How many strokes?”

Dennis half-smiles. “That's your job.”

He takes it pretty well, considering he's had absolutely no warm-up and canes are harsh. Tina doesn't count; if you're not working to a specific number she doesn’t see the point in keeping track. It's not like they aren't going to keep stinging without her help.

For the first two or three, Dennis still has some kind of self-control. He's trying to tough it out, she can see. It's obvious, from the way he bares his teeth and pants but doesn't let himself voice any sounds, the way his arms are braced stiffly against the edge of the bar, holding him upright. Then she hits a little closer to the previous welt than she meant to, and he yelps aloud, jerking away from the impact.

“Damn,” Tina says appreciatively, because she believes in keeping people informed, “That's hot.”

Dennis practically buckles. He looks at her and his pupils are blown wide. Words don't follow, but arousal is not a difficult thing to read.

“I thought you didn't like girls?”

“No, but...” he says, barely more than a whisper, “I like being pleasing?”

“Well, don't get any ideas. This is strictly a platonic beating. I just thought you should know you look good like this.”

Dennis nods, sagging towards the top of the bar. Maybe it's the conversation, or maybe the pain is catching up with him; either way he's running out of fight. The next set of blows make him whimper aloud with each impact and clench his fingers against the bar, pressing up against it. It really is a good look on him, and Tina has to work hard to keep her strikes even.

When tears come to his eyes, she takes it as a cue to wind down. He hasn't safeworded, but he hasn't told her “green” either, so she's not inclined to push him into sobbing. She give him one more careful stroke on each thigh, admiring the neat ladders of welts on his skin, pairs of angry red lines separated by stark white where the cane bit home, and sets the cane pointedly back down on the bar. Dennis has his eyes closed, but he hears it. His head drops almost to the wood.

Tina takes a deep breath and strokes his back, between his shoulder-blades. She needs some time to come down from that, even if he doesn't – which he does, but he might deny it. “Is this the part where I tell you you're a good boy? Because that was pretty impressive.”

He huffs with laughter. “If you like, ma'am.” It's hard to keep your tone even when you've just been beaten; she can hear every ounce of relief. Dennis swallows hard and turns his head, meeting her eyes with deliberate care. “Thank you.”

Tina's not sure it's possible to sound less flippant.

“My pleasure,” she answers, and keeps rubbing his back until they both find their way to the ground.

**Author's Note:**

> I have written smutty fanfic about a show about people who write smutty fanfic, in which I referenced the original work the fanfic in the show I've written fanfic about is written about. I don't know if I'm feeling smug or ashamed but it's definitely a thing I have done.


End file.
